Miss Congeniality
by Ruthless Bunny
Summary: Daria's last hope for scholarship money is to participate in a beauty contest.


**A Disclaimer: These characters are the property of MTV, and the intellectual property of the creators of Daria.  I appreciate their indulgence in letting me build a world around them.  I am doing this for love, not money, so please do not get your panties in a twist about it.  Thanks.**

**Miss Congeniality**

**Ruthless Bunny **

**Chapter 1**

**I'm Going To Disney World!**

Helen Morgendorffer remembered this night one year ago, how nervous she was, how proud too.  She looked over at Jake, tears brimming in his eyes.  She saw the other parents in the audience, hoping for their daughters, the same way she had hoped for hers a year ago.   Helen was sorry that her other daughter was at school, too busy with mid-term exams to be here.  It didn't matter, they knew that she was here in spirit.  There she was, taking that last walk down the runway.   Her pre-recorded speech ringing over the speaker system in the auditorium:

"In the past year, I have learned far more than I could have in any classroom.  I have met amazing people, seen amazing places and more importantly I have done amazing things.  I have banded together with other Americans to improve our communities.  While we may count our achievements in terms of our personal growth, I have been fortunate to be part of great movements of change.  When I started down this runway a year ago, I had no idea how much I would change as a person or how much one person could change the world.  Next year's Miss American Teen has a wonderful year ahead of her."   

The music underscoring the words rose to a crescendo and the audience applauded enthusiastically.  She waved to the crowd and expertly pivoted, revealing her trademark, steel-toed work boots under her formal gown.  A wave of laughter followed her back to the main stage.  The rest of the show went as it traditionally does.   The five finalists held hands as they were awarded the runners-up places.  The last two young women clung to each other until the new winner was announced.  There was a squeal, and some tears, as Daria deftly pinned the crown to the winner's hair.  As the new Miss American Teen walked down the runway, credits scrolling across her tear-streaked face, Daria exited the stage.  Someone resembling a reporter stuck a microphone in her face, "Daria Morgendorffer, you've just completed your reign as Miss American Teen, what are you going to do now?"  

"I'm going to Disney World."  She replied, flashing her now trademark smile.

Daria awoke in her hotel room.  It was quiet. No alarm clock, no ringing cell phone, no CNN, just the rattle of the fan.  She couldn't remember the last time she could actually lay in bed after waking up.  She had been on the run for the last year, with a schedule and a secretary to guide her every movement.  She hadn't had a moment of time to truly call her own in the past twelve months.   She tried to think about what she wanted to do.  Order breakfast?  Watch television?  She sank back into the pillows and thought about the past year.  The past two years actually.  Her life had taken a drastic turn somewhere, that direction had brought her a small amount of fame, a modicum of structure and a lot of lip-gloss.

**Chapter 2**

**Fan Mail From Some Flounder**

It was the second term of her senior year at Lawndale High and Daria had enough mail to sift through. Jane joined her in the kitchen, her head conspicuously in the refrigerator looking for food.  "Leftover lasagna, salad in a bag, I think this ham has a rainbow on it.  Don't you have anything to eat here?"   Jane looked up and saw that Daria was holding a letter; it looked important.  "What's that?"  

Daria continued to stare at the letter.  "I've been accepted to Brown."  

Jane, although jealous of Daria's options regarding college, had tried to be supportive.  "Great!  That's one of the schools you really wanted to go to, right?"  

Daria set the letter gently on the counter.  "No scholarship."  

Jane had managed to find enough stuff in the barren fridge to make a sandwich.  "So what?  You want half of this?" 

Daria shook her head no.  "If I don't have a scholarship, I can't afford to go."

"Don't Jake and Helen have a college fund for you?"  Jane bit into her sandwich and chewed thoughtfully.  

"They put aside a college fund of sorts, but it's only enough for a good state school or a second-rate private school like Middleton.  I don't know what's worse; a state school would be an extension of high school.  A private school would just be the dumping ground for kids with more money than smarts.  I just don't have four more years of alienation in me.  I'm so tired of being the weird one."  She sat down next to Jane at the kitchen table, finally seeing that her sandwich included two different kinds of bread, peanut butter and lettuce.

"What about student loans?  I know tons of people get through school that way."  Jane cut off a corner of sandwich for her friend.

"I thought about it, but that's just mortgaging your future.  My Mom just paid her loans off last year.  She started off wanting to be a public defender, but when she graduated she couldn't afford to do it, so she took a job in a corporate law firm.  I don't want to be in the same boat, working at some crappy job just to pay off debt.  Do you know how much these schools cost?  It's nearly one hundred thousand dollars by the time it's all over with.  I've checked it out, I applied for scholarships and grants, but it takes more than grades and test scores.  Over and over again, the criteria stipulate activities.  They're looking for a lot more than reading to old people for a week."

"So what are you going to do?"  

"I don't know.  I suppose I'll just go to Middleton."  Daria bit into the sandwich, and was instantly sorry that she did.

"It's not like going to the electric chair, or University of Florida." Jane observed.

"No, but it's not what I want to do.  The only thing keeping me from Brown is money.  How sick is that?"  

"What's that other envelope, junk mail?"  Jane indicated another letter in the pile.

"This thing from Miss American Teen?  Let's just ship this to the round file."  Daria turned around to put it into the trash, but Jane stopped her."

"You never know. At least read it." 

Daria slid her finger under the flap and opened it slowly.  

_Dear Ms. Morgendorffer;_

_You have been selected to participate in the Miss American Teen Scholarship Awards.  Miss American Teen has been the largest scholarship provider for young American women for nearly a century.    Many famous American women have been participants and winners in our program.  _

_Because of your academic excellence, community service and special talent, we believe that you would make an excellent candidate for the local scholarship contest in Lawndale.  We are holding an informational meeting at Le Grand Hotel.   We invite you to meet Miss American Teen 1987 and Pulitzer Prize winning author, Latrice Williams.   We will have representatives and local program coordinators available to answer your questions.  _

_We look forward to seeing you there._

The rest of the letter gave the pertinent information, date, time, and a number to call to confirm that she would attend.  

"I think it's meant for Quinn."  Daria said as she studied the letter.  "Latrice Williams. I sure would like to meet her."

"Didn't we study her short stories in Mr. O'Neill's class?" Jane asked as she continued her search for sustenance.  "Pop Tarts, popcorn, soda pop, you Morgendorffers sure like stuff that pops."

Daria admired Ms. Williams.  The depth of her writing had impressed Daria.  After reading one of her stories, Daria was inspired to try the short story format.  She even mailed the story to a literary magazine.  Although it was rejected, Daria learned that it was at least good enough to have been seriously considered.  Since then Daria had a few stories published.  In small journals, true, but she was published, which is a lot to say at the age of seventeen.  In her mind, Daria credited Ms. Williams for getting her started. 

"I can't believe that Latrice Williams was a beauty queen.  Aren't they bouncy, bouncy girls who twirl batons and want world peace?"  Daria found it hard to reconcile the thought.  She folded the letter and put it carefully in her backpack.  

Jane shrugged as she sat back down at the table with a Pop Tart to tide her over until the popcorn finished cooking in the microwave.  "Clearly they've sent the letter to the wrong Daria Morgendorffer.  You should think about going though. How often do you get an opportunity to meet a famous author?"

Chapter 3 Afternoon Tea 

Daria parked her mother's car and walked into the hotel.  She felt like a fly on a plate.  She wanted to slink into the ballroom unobserved, but a cheerful Concierge approached her.  "Can I help you find something?"  

"Yes, I'm looking for the…" Daria had to consult her letter, "the Stanhope ballroom."  

"Oh, you're one of the Miss American Teens?  That's so great!  It's down the escalator and straight ahead to the end of the corridor.  Good luck."  The woman actually seemed excited for her.  In an odd corner of her mind, Daria was excited for herself.  She might not have wanted to go to the dance, but at least she was asked.   She was also concerned that someone she knew might see her.  

When she got to the ballroom there was a table set up with two perky women handing out nametags.  "Oh, here you are Daria.  My that's a pretty name."  The woman wearing the "Courtney" nametag said to her as she handed Daria the official Miss American Teen self-adhesive sticker.  "Just go on in, they've got juice and cookies in there, help yourself."  Daria took the tag and stuck it on her green jacket.  She walked in and saw some familiar faces, one of the girls from the bookstore at the mall, one of Quinn's friends from school, and that girl from The Zon, only she wasn't wearing black nail polish and lipstick.

Daria sat down and waited for the program to begin. The room filled up and precisely on the hour a tall, blond woman stood up at the podium.  She introduced herself as the local pageant coordinator, gave some rah-rah about how great the Miss American Teen program is, gave lip service to academic accomplishments and spoke interminably about community service.  Daria was barely listening.  She could see Latrice Williams sitting on the dais behind the podium.  Daria tried not to stare; she was beautiful.  Not beautiful like the blond with coral lipstick droning on about poise and dignity, but refined and polished.  Daria had only ever been exposed to the kind of beauty that came from artifice.  Quinn and her seven face creams.  Helen and her concealer.  Even Jane wore extreme colors for impact.  But Ms. Williams had a glow about her, and it wasn't makeup or her clothing, it was something else.  Daria could feel her intelligence and sensitivity rolling off of her.  She knew, no matter what, that she was going to have a conversation with Latrice Williams.  

It took about twenty minutes, but Miss Hair Helmet 1993 finally got around to introducing Latrice Williams.  She stood up, and Daria was astonished to see that she was short.  Daria figured that only a tall, willowy woman could win a beauty contest, but Ms. Williams was no taller than Daria's 5'2".   

"Thank you Mrs. Anderson for that lovely introduction.  Certainly the Miss American Teen program made it possible for me to attend the university of my choice, but that's not the most important thing that I got from it.  Participating in this program allowed me to see people in a whole new way.  I have more respect for the work that we young women do in this country.  Did you know that we're teaching kids to read, educating the public about breast cancer and providing peer counseling in schools?  The things that you take for granted are making our communities strong and vital.  I hope that you decide to participate in this program, not just because you might win a scholarship to continue your education, but because you have a desire to change the world, one small piece at a time."  

There was applause, but Daria was riveted.  She never once actually considered participating, but Latrice Williams just gave her a reason; she could make a difference.  Daria hated to admit it, but her cynical veneer hid the heart of an idealist.  The cynicism came out when she attempted to change something, and it continued on, as always, exactly the same.  Daria's "stands" had backfired on her.  She avoided extra-curricular activities, primarily because they were forced upon her.  What Daria had discovered was that her principled stand against mandatory activities had ruined her chances of getting the scholarship she so desperately needed.   

Daria sat quietly during the informational part of the agenda, turning it over in her head.  The idea of actually entering this "program" set her teeth on edge, yet she was intrigued at the possibility of winning a prize.  She didn't need a huge prize, just enough of one to make it possible for her to go to Brown.  A little bit of debt wouldn't be so bad, and she could justify it if she had some scholarship money.  Daria Morgendorffer a beauty queen?  How could she betray everything she believed in?  But what about Latrice Williams?  She was still a talented author.  She seemed PROUD of her involvement in Miss American Teen.  If someone that Daria respected so much thought that this was a good idea, then who was she to pooh-pooh it?  

"Daria?"  Stacy leaned down to catch her attention.  "Daria?  Is that you?"

"Huh?  Oh hi Stacy."  Daria looked up at the girl.  Who was she kidding?  Stacy was the kind of girl who would win this thing.  Pretty, tall, vacant.  

"Are you going to enter the contest?"  Stacy chewed her lip nervously, it looked adorable.

"I don't think so." Daria said, and with her words went her last hopes of attending an Ivy League school. She held up her hands in a helpless gesture, as if to indicate that clearly any of the other young women in the room were better candidates for Miss Lawndale.  

"Why not?  It's more your thing than mine.  I don't even know what to write the essay about.  And that test they give you.  I'll bet your STAT scores are good enough not to have to take it.  I'll need tutoring.  And talent.  I don't have any talent.  I don't even know why they sent me the letter."  She looked like she was going to cry.  

Daria considered it.  This was much more intellectually rigorous than she had thought.  Perhaps she should give it more thought.  "Well Stacy, don't worry about it, if you want, I'll help you with your entrance package."

"You will?" Stacy asked incredulously.  She lived in a world where girls competed with each other, it never occurred to her that someone like Daria would offer help, especially if she wanted to win a prize too.

"Sure.  I don't think this is right for me, but if you've got a shot, then I'll be happy to tutor you for the test."  Daria started to collect her pack.  She didn't really understand the impulse that made her volunteer to help her sister's friend, but she had been feeling friendlier towards the Fashion Fascists ever since she took over their English class earlier in the semester.  Except for Sandi, her feelings towards Sandi hadn't changed. 

"Daria, that is so nice of you!"  Stacy grabbed her in a big bear hug.  

Stacy took an entry package from the table at the back of the ballroom.  "Aren't you going to take one Daria?"  It was Latrice Williams.  

"Uh, no thank you Ms. Williams, I don't think so."  Daria addressed the woman standing there, apparently so perfect and assured compared with her.  

"Can I have a word with you privately?"  She said it in a way that let Stacy know that she should get another cup of juice, in another part of the room.

"Sure.  Stacy, if you can wait a minute, I'll give you a ride home."  Stacy nodded, and started to look over the entrance materials.  

"Daria, why don't you want to participate?"  She seemed genuinely interested in Daria.

Daria thought about it, it seemed mean to say what she was thinking about the whole thing, especially when Ms. Williams seemed to think so highly of the program.  "Well, I guess it's just not for me."

"Is that the real reason?  How is a program that rewards young women for being bright, intelligent, witty, and caring not for you?"  She had a stare that penetrated Daria's defenses.  

"Well, I've never been one to use lipstick, and I don't own a ball gown and frankly I don't think that I look that good in a bathing suit."  Daria stated this as fact.  

"Is that what you think this is about?  Look, I'll admit, it got started as a bathing beauty contest, but with young women like you participating, we can take it to a new level.  Think about the scholarships that get awarded.  This program gives away more money to young women than any other in the nation.  As a winner, you have a platform for speaking your mind. I promise you this, you _can speak your mind.  They don't want a mouthpiece; they really are looking for an intelligent young woman to represent us.  As a winner you travel all over the country, you meet all kinds of interesting people and you learn so much about what you are capable of.  Daria, think it over.  Take a package and really consider it.  I'd like to see you participate."  Ms. Williams placed her hand on Daria's shoulder and looked her dead in the eye. _

There was no place for Daria to hide.  "It sounds good, but lets get real, I'd have to wear make-up and dresses and high heels.  No one wins this thing unless they look glamorous."

"So what?  Is it a crime to doll up?  Wearing lipstick doesn't change who you are.  We still live in an extremely superficial world, and no matter what you want to do with your life, the more attractive you are, the better your chances are.  Daria, can I ask you a personal question?"  

Daria didn't really want to answer a personal question, but she liked Ms. Williams, she admired how honest she was.  "Can I stop you?"  She smiled her subtle smile.

"No, but you don't have to answer.  Why are you afraid to be pretty?  It's obvious that you are an attractive young woman, why do you hide it?"  

"I guess I don't think it's that important."

"I'm going to go out on a limb here.  I think that's crap.  I think that you are afraid.  You're afraid that if you enhance your beauty, that people won't take you seriously.  Well, I can tell you one thing, it's not true.  If anything, people will be more interested in what you have to say."

"Isn't that wrong?  Shouldn't people accept your ideas at face value?"

She shrugged her shoulders.  "Of course, but facts are facts, and this is your life.  You can test your theory, and perhaps you can break through, but what will you have lost in the mean time?  Everything is a choice.  You can choose to make the most of all of your assets and see where that gets you.  What's the worst that could happen?"

Daria thought about it.  "I'd betray my principles. I don't think that it's important to be attractive."

"You're right, it isn't, and you make a valid point, but think about this, which is more powerful: a person who is actively trying not to be attractive saying it, or a clearly beautiful person saying it?  How easy is it to dismiss the first person as sour grapes?  How much harder is it to say the same about the beautiful person?  I don't happen to agree with you, but if you really feel that way, what better platform to express it than here?"

Daria thought about it. The whole thing made her uncomfortable, but she had to admit, there was truth in there.  Was the only thing that kept her from trying to earn a scholarship the fact that she'd have to buy into the cult of beauty?  If so, what did that say about her?  That she would pass up a chance at money for her education simply because she would have to change her appearance? "There's a lot to think about."

"I understand, so take a package.  Think about it.  I'd hate to see someone as talented as you are throw away an opportunity without considering it fully."

"How do you know that I'm talented?"

"I read your story in _Taproots.  It's a nice piece of work."_

Daria was stunned.  A Pulitzer Prize winning author had read, and liked her story. "Thanks. For everything."

"Don't mention it. I hope to see you around."  Ms. Williams went to circulate around the room.

On the ride home, Stacy jabbered at Daria about the contest.  She talked about gowns, and costumes and something called an "up-do."  It was Greek to Daria.  She was turning it over in her mind.  She hated those "makeover" movies.  The kind where someone's life changes because they get a haircut and mascara. She hated the idea that somehow the only thing standing between her and success was taking off her glasses.  Those movies usually ended up with the girl getting the guy.  A shallow guy, someone who couldn't see the girl's inner beauty until she had outer beauty.  What the hell kind of message was _that?  Then there was the movie Legally Blond, which was sort of the reverse situation.  The girl had all the outer beauty, so much so that people just assumed that she had no depth.  That was just as wrong, yet Daria had indulged that prejudice with impunity.  It was a tricky question, and the only thing keeping her from filling out the application.  _

**Chapter 4**

**We Gather Together**

Daria looked out at the people she had gathered in her living room.  She figured that she had better get used to being stared at.  Daria sat down and plotted this as though she were a general.  Her parents, Quinn, Stacy, Tom, Jane and Trent sat around her. 

"Thank you all for coming today, I've got a huge favor to ask all of you.  I'm going to need your support, now more than I ever have."

"Oh my God, you're pregnant."  Helen interjected. Her hand flew to her pearls and she sagged a bit.

Daria panicked.  Of all the ways she thought her family would react, that took her by surprise.  "No!"  She shouted, trying to disabuse anyone of thinking anything like that about her.  Sheesh, her own Mother.  " I can't stand asking for help, so I'm just going to say it: I'm entering the Miss American Teen pageant and I need help. Lots and lots of help."  

"Oh no."  Helen down right sank into the sofa pillows.  It was as though being a contestant was worse than being pregnant. "Oh honey, why?"

Daria had practiced this part, she expected that reaction. "It's my last opportunity for scholarship money.  None of the schools that have accepted me are offering any financial aid, so I have to do this."

"Isn't there some other way?"  Helen really seemed upset.  "I just can't believe that you want to do this."

"Well I do.  I've given it a lot of thought, and it seems to me to be my best chance.  The prizes in the local contest are pretty good.  If I could get ten thousand, I think I could manage for a couple of years with what you've saved.  By then I'll have a chance to qualify for scholarships."  Daria tried to sound as rational as possible.  "It's just one contest."

Helen seemed troubled but she nodded in acceptance.  Jake looked around.  "I think it's great Kiddo.  Good for you!"

"It's really not just about beauty. Not that you aren't pretty."  Stacy added nervously. "It's about talent and service and other stuff too. I'm entering too." 

Quinn looked between her friend and her sister.  "Well, Stacy I think you've pretty much got an idea of what to do, Daria, you are going to need coaching. Serious coaching."  She whipped out her Hello Kitty notebook and began making notes.  "Stacy, we are taking this on as a Fashion Club project, everything else is on hold."

Stacy put a finger to her lips and gently chewed.  "Quinn, what will Sandi say?"

 "Don't worry about her, she'll be thrilled to help out." Quinn swished her hair behind her.  "I hope." She added under her breath. 

"So where do Trent and I come in?"  Jane asked Daria.

"You are my oldest friends here, I need your moral support."

"I can do that." Trent added.  

"Me too. I can loan you some lipstick."  Jane offered.

"Great. Thanks. So everyone is on board?"  There were nods around the room.  Except for Helen and Tom.  Helen was not happy and Tom was even less so.

**Chapter 5**

**Jake Has a Thought**

The next few days Daria spent with Quinn.  Quinn had segmented the contest into categories.  Academic, fitness, appearance, service and talent.  Academic, Daria had covered.  She had made time during her study hall to work with Stacy on the entrance exam.  Fitness was a small hurdle.  It was eventually determined that Daria would speed-walk with Helen in the morning, until she could graduate to running with Jane.  She had also arranged with Mack to help her with weight lifting, she actually added it as a class to her schedule.    
  


"Daria taking a second elective in P.E?  I'm playing Lotto." Jane observed.  

Appearance was the typical montage of beauty parlor footage, combined with some lessons that Quinn had designed.  Daria needed plenty of practice walking in high heels.  Talent and service were presenting problems.  It was discussed at an unlikely meeting of the Fashion Club.  Jane was there as well so Daria wouldn't feel too outnumbered.  Jodie attended as an expert consultant.   

"Well, I don't have too much choice in my activities, but I've noticed that it's a lot more fun when it's something I enjoy doing.  For example, I hate working in Congressman Sach's office. That sucks.  I do like working for the Dyslexia Society though, I like helping the kids with their reading.  I'd suggest something that you're likely to enjoy."  Jodie sat on Quinn's bed, trying to avoid the stare of the smiley pillow. 

"So is there something I can do with babies?  I love babies."  Stacy asked.  

Jodie consulted a booklet on volunteerism that she had brought with her.  "Well, you can be a candy-striper at Cedars of Lawndale, they have a program where you can hold and feed babies in the Neonatal ICU."

"Really?  I'd love that."  Stacy took the information from Jodie and got on the furry, green phone on Quinn's desk to set it up.

Attention turned to Daria.  "Well Daria, what kinds of things do you like to do?"

"Is there a way to volunteer without dealing with people?"  Daria was the most concerned about this part of the contest.  Her brushes with volunteerism had been less than fulfilling.

Jodie flipped through the book.  "That does limit your options.  Well, there's adopt a highway."

"Picking up trash? I don't think so."  Daria wrinkled up her nose.  "A bit to much like Sisyphus for my taste.  Pick it up and some bonehead is just going to dump all over it again. How about something more permanent?"   Daria wasn't trying to be difficult, she really wanted to find something to believe in.

"Uh, ok.  How about docent at the art museum?  You could teach people about the art.  That doesn't have too much people contact in it." 

"That's got not much Spam in it."  Jane said in a high-pitched English accent.  "A person can actually do that?  You mean you show people around and tell them about the art?  That sounds like fun."  She nudged Daria.

"That's more for you. Why don't you sign up for that?  You can make contacts."  Daria suggested.

"I just might."  She wrote down the information on her sketchpad.

"Gee Daria, you are hard to find a match for.  Let's see.  Meals on Wheels?  No.  Big Sister?  No.  Habitat for Humanity?"  She looked at Daria.

"Habitat for Humanity?  Building houses?  That could be interesting."  Daria considered it, trying it on for size in her mind.  

"You could wear your work boots."  Tiffany chimed in.  

"Yes Tiffany, I think my choice of service organization should reflect my choice in footwear as well."  Daria said.

Quinn was thinking. "You know Daria, there's something to be said for it.  There are good photo opportunities, and no one is going to expect you to dress up with elaborate make up and hair for it."  Quinn was a master manipulator, thus a great sales person.

"Well, there is that.  Plus I can learn some household repairs in the bargain.  Okay, I'll check it out."  

Quinn marked something down in her notebook. "Great, now for talent.  What is your talent?"

Jane smiled an evil smile.  "Flute, didn't you used to play flute?"

Daria gave her the hairy eyeball.  "Yes, if you want to hear Three Blind Mice, flute is definitely the way to go." 

"No," said Quinn, missing the sarcasm, "No one ever wins these things with instrumentals.  It's got to be singing."

"Singing?  I can't sing."  Daria said, panicked.  

"You can't not-sing."  Jane said.  "I've heard you in the shower, you can carry a tune."

"I've sung in your shower?  How embarrassing."  Daria blushed.

"Yes Daria, you must sing.  All winners sing."  Sandi said authoritatively.  "You minimize your chances of problems with singing."

"Trent can help you with that if you like."  Jane proposed. "You can rehearse together."

"Tom would love that."  Daria said, as if that were the objection that would get them off the subject.

"Right, suddenly you're worried about what Tom thinks."  Jane said

"What's that supposed to mean?" Daria asked her friend.

"I'll tell you later.  We've got work to do now."  Jane tabled the topic.

There was a knock on the door, followed by Jake with a box full of cookies.  "Hi kids, thought you could use a snack.  I got these at the bakery on the way home.  Whatcha doing?"  He sat down on the chair at Quinn's vanity and surveyed the room full of young women.

"We've decided on Stacy and Daria's service.  Stacy is going to hold babies at the hospital and Daria is going to build houses with Habitat for Humanity.  Now we're working on talent.  Stacy is easy, she's been studying gymnastics for years.  We're trying to get Daria to sing." Quinn said, bringing Jake up to date.

"Besides," added Sandi, "As long as you don't sound horrible, singing will pass as a talent."

"Yeah Daria, just pick a song that's easy to sing."  Jane said with her mouth full of cookie.

"What's easy to sing?"  Daria asked.  The room at large shrugged their narrow shoulders. 

"I don't know.  Want me to call Trent?"

"Does he know?"

"He might."

"Okay."

Jane used the furry phone to call her brother.  When he finally answered, woke up and became coherent, he suggested folk songs.  He also offered to help with guitar accompaniment.  Then he fell asleep. 

"Folk songs?"  Jake said, suddenly joining the conversation. "That's good.  You want to marry the song with your theme."

"I have a theme?"

"You should.  You tie everything together.  What you believe in, why you believe in it.  That way the judges will have something to grasp.  For example, Stacy is holding babies, therefore if she can do her gymnastics to "The Greatest Love of All."  See how that ties in?  You reinforce the idea.  It makes you unforgettable.  Hmm."  Jake pondered it for a minute, while the girls all exchanged looks.  Jane raised her eyebrows at Daria, she mouthed "Savant" back at Jane.  "Let's see, folk songs.  Houses. Building.  Tools. Hammer.  'If I had a Hammer.'  That's it.  Daria, you should sing 'If I had a Hammer.' It's not even that hard to sing."  He started humming the tune.  

Jane was the first to speak. "Well, it makes sense.  It should be easy to play on the guitar.  Just a couple of chords."

Daria sighed. "Well, that's not so scary.  I can do that.  I can even wear a hard-hat and T-shirt to perform it."

Quinn checked something else off the list. "Great.  Perfect. Well, we've got a lot accomplished today.  I think we owe Daddy a round of applause."  All the girls clapped for Jake.

"Thanks girls.  Who's staying for dinner?  We're having Chutney Shrimp.  Plenty for everyone!"  

**Chapter 6**

**Money Changes Everything**

After dinner Daria went over to Tom's house.  He was happy to see her.

"So what did you do this afternoon?"  He asked.  

"We decided which service organizations we were going to work for."  Daria answered.  

"Oh? What did you decide on?"  His mood shifted, if Daria didn't know better she'd say he seemed hostile. 

"Habitat for Humanity."  Daria answered.  She felt weird. He was so distant.  It wasn't like she was talking to her boyfriend, but a guy she was just getting to know.

"That's good."  He didn't seem to have anything more to add.  He reached over and turned on the TV.  It was a documentary about the Bureau of Printing and Engraving.

"Tom, do you have a problem with me participating in Miss American Teen?"  She remembered Jane's comment, and decided to pursue it.

He was quiet for a minute.  "Yes.  I don't understand why you're doing it.  It's against all of your principles."

"You really like me for my principles, don't you?"  She was only half-sarcastic.

"Daria, be serious.  What's the real reason you're doing this?"  He seemed genuinely confused.

"Look, let's put my principles aside.  Other than that, what should keep me from participating?"  She was trying to understand what his problem was.

"How can I put your principles aside? Oh wait, you seemed to do it fast enough.  I guess you're just desperate for a scholarship."  He said bitterly.

"Look Tom, I've heard this from you before.  I heard what you had to say, and I blew a chance at ten thousand dollars.  I really respect your opinion, and you were right about what the Wizard Corporation stands for, but still, that's ten thousand dollars that I could have used to go to Brown.  I can't afford to go without a scholarship."  She tried to reach out to him, but he sat with his arms folded over his chest. 

"Daria, there has to be another option.  Student loans, grants, something.  I just don't see how you can sell yourself out for money."  He took her hand.

"That's easy for you to say since you don't have to worry about it.  Your biggest concern is deciding on which school to attend.  It's different for me.  My parents don't have the resources that yours do.  I don't want to graduate so far in debt that I can't afford to write when I graduate.  We're not talking about small debt here; we're talking nearly one hundred thousand dollars. If I can earn some of that by dressing up, doing some volunteer work and singing, then why should you care?"  Daria tried to make him understand.  They were the same questions she asked herself, and she had arrived at this solution.  Why couldn't he see it the way that she saw it?  

"Daria, I don't know what you're thinking.  I would think that you'd rather go to a state school than do this.  I know your parents saved up enough for that." 

"A state school?  Tom, why would I do that?  It would be like high school all over again.  If all I wanted was a degree, then it wouldn't be a problem, but I really want a chance to be challenged.  I'm not going to get that in a state school, or at some place like Middleton.  If I'm going to college, I want it to be someplace wonderful.  I can get a diploma anywhere, I want the experience."

"So you'd give up your dignity for it?  You'd give up everything you stand for so that you can go to Brown?"

"Right, or Harvard or Yale.  Don't you see?  These are the only places that I want to go.  They're the only places that are going to really educate me.  Otherwise, I'll just be going through the motions.  Sure I'll have the paper, but what will I do with it?"  Daria said in exasperation.  Tom frustrated her.  He pretended that his family's wealth didn't mean anything to him, but it meant that he didn't have to worry about how to pay for college. 

"I thought you wanted to be a writer, you can do that anywhere."

"Sure.  I can do that at Middleton.  And I'll be the best writer there.  Even the professors will be jealous.  I know I'm talented, so what?  If I can't nurture and grow that talent, I'd just as soon be normal.  Shit, if I were normal then I'd be happy pledging a sorority, writing for the school paper and becoming an English teacher.  I want more than that.  I want to be one of thousands of talented people.  I want not to be the smartest person in the room.  God, why don't you understand?"  Daria was close to tears. Years of frustration weighed on her.  The one thing she wanted, and money was keeping her from it.  

"I don't know what to say.  I just don't understand.  I don't understand how you can throw away everything you believe in and do this.  It's got to be more than the money."

"It might be.  People I admire have participated in this contest.  Maybe I want to see if I can win on different turf.  Maybe I want to see how far I can take it.  I've thought about it, and I don't see what's so terrible.  I'm not a bimbo, and none of the other contestants are either."

"Right. Stacy."

"She's not a bimbo.  She's a nice girl.  She's also a hell of a gymnast. She may not understand Russian politics, but that doesn't make her a bimbo.  When did you become such an intellectual snob?"

"Me? What about you?  You're the one that wants to go to an Ivy League school so you aren't the smartest one in the room."

"There's a difference.  I want that for my own enrichment.  I don't want it because I won't have to socialize with "average" people.  Jesus, why didn't I see this before?  You don't admire my principles, my principles are what keep you from being disgusted with me."

Tom didn't know how to answer that.  It seemed unfair, but it was true in a way.  He could not see himself with Daria if she were in a beauty pageant.  "Take it anyway you want.  The Daria I know wouldn't compete in something like that."

"Who is this Daria you know?  I'm standing right here, and I'm in it.  It's very easy to have ideals when it doesn't cost you anything to have them.  I've already blown my chance at school scholarships because my principles kept me from participating in extra-curricular activities.  I blew my chance at the Wizard scholarship.  I don't have anything left to blow.  I have to try this.  It's my last chance."

"Who says you're going to win?"  Tom said acidly. 

"I can win if everyone I love supports me."  Daria said as she gathered her pack. "Goodbye Tom.  It was nice knowing you."

**Chapter 7**

**If I Had a Hammer**

Daria had started to get involved after school.  She worked in the offices at Habitat for Humanity.  She needed to be eighteen before she could participate in building a house, so she helped out with administrative duties.  She sat in the logistics meetings.  Building a house was more than just nailing some boards together.  There were schedules and deliveries to consider.  Daria found it fascinating.  She used some project management software and developed a timeline for Dennis, the foreman.  Sometimes he'd take her out in the truck and show her the worksites.  There were six houses that were being restored in a neighborhood that was on the edge of town.  

"I thought that Habitat only built new houses."

"Sometimes we do, but if we can use existing structures, and it saves money, we'll do that.  This house was nearly destroyed by fire, but we were able to re-build it."  He pointed to a scorched beam.

"Doesn't that make it less solid?"  Daria looked at the charred wood and wondered how it was possible that a building could survive something as catastrophic as a fire.  

"Well, we can reinforce it, no problem. We like to preserve the houses if possible, for the continuity.  It's good for the neighborhood.  Check it out.  Mrs. Grove across the street planted those flowers.  The guy up the street painted his house, it was a mess before.  When we come to the neighborhood, everyone spruces up around our houses.  It's good for the whole community."

They inspected the drywall.  A group from the community center was in over the weekend, and while they did a decent job, there were some large gaps where the panels met.  Dennis shook his head.  "It looks like the union guys are going to have a time of it.  The mud and tape job on this is going to be tough.  Well, everyone should know how to sand sheetrock I guess."  They made a list of the supplies needed for the next phase, and they made a note to call over to the union hall to see if they could get a couple of journeymen to help the apprentices with the taping.  

"So how long have you been doing this?"  Daria asked him as they bounced back to the offices.

"Well, I started out as an apprentice carpenter right out of high school, worked my way through journeyman then I became a master.  That was good, I made a nice living.  Then I started working on Habitat houses through my church.  It was really great helping people realize their dreams.  One thing led to another, I got my contractors license and now I'm the foreman.  It doesn't pay as much, but I love my work."  He smiled and hummed along with the song on the radio.

Daria put her boots up on the dashboard and thought about how one simple thing, like a house, could make such a big difference in someone's life. According to Maslow, he was the guy with the hierarchy of needs, only breathing and eating were more important than housing.   A house was what characterized the American Dream.  A place to call your own.  A place where a family could grow up, where kids felt happy and safe.  Daria thought about the families that she had met.  They were all nice, regular people, yet lack of decent, affordable housing had made their lives hellish.  Daria felt proud to be associated with such a worthwhile project.  She continued to make notes while Dennis sang along with Tom Petty.  

**Chapter 8**

**A Walk in the Park**

It was still dark when Daria met Helen at the front door.  It was a cold morning, Daria was glad that she had added a sweatshirt to her ensemble.  The two women headed up the street toward the park.  They usually went up to the park, around two times and then back home to get ready for the day.  This morning Helen was unusually quiet.  Daria had put her long hair up in a ponytail with a scrunchie.  Before starting in earnest, they stretched.  In the past few weeks, Daria had really started to adapt to exercise.  Her arms and legs were defined by strong muscle.  Her usually small frame was looking hard and sturdy.  In a few more weeks, she'd be ready to go out with Jane.  

After the first time around the park, Daria had started to wake up.  "So, are you still working on that class action suit?"

Helen grunted in the affirmative.  They continued on.  Daria tried another subject.  "I signed up to participate in the school talent show.  I'm singing my song.  I figured I should get some practice in front of a group."  She expected Helen to say something; instead she just saw a slight nod of her head in response.  "Mom, is there some problem?"  Ever since Daria had announced that she was entering the pageant, Helen maintained a frosty distance.  

"Daria, you're nearly an adult, it's your life, you need to decide how you want to live it."  She stared straight ahead as her arms pumped up and down.  

"That's not what I asked.  It seems to me that you've been hostile to the idea since I started.  What's so terrible?  Does it offend your feminist sensibilities, because if it does…"  

"NO! That's not it."  Helen was angry, but she couldn't seem to get her tongue to say what she was thinking.  "I'm sorry.  I'm so sorry."  A tear slid down her face.  They stopped walking and Helen turned to a shocked Daria.  "Honey, I'm sorry.  I'm sorry we didn't save more money for you.  I'm sorry that we just finished paying my student loans off last year.  Oh God, I'm sorry your grandmother thinks that weddings are more important than education.  There's so much I wish I could do, you just grew up too fast." 

Daria was uncomfortable.  She thought she had figured out why Helen was being unsupportive, and now that whole train had derailed.  "You couldn't help it.  I'm at fault too. I didn't participate like I should have.  I could have worked and saved more.  But I'm making up for it; I found a way to make it happen.  What's so bad about that?"

Helen wiped her face with her sleeve.  "Oh Honey, but what price are you paying?  I know you would never get involved in something like this if only we had enough money.  Now you're doing something that you hate, just to further your education. It's all my fault."

Daria started to tear up as well.  "Oh Mom.  It's no one's fault.  I like it.  I like the other participants.  I like singing.  I like working on the houses.  I might have started doing this for the money, but I'm really having fun."  Helen gave her a skeptical look.  "Really.  Come on; let's get in one more lap.  I've got an early study session with Stacy this morning." The two women wiped their eyes and continued their trot around the park.  One felt a huge weight lift off of her shoulders with every step.  

**Chapter 9**

**Evening gowns and Swimsuits**

Quinn helped Stacy curl one more tendril as Daria dabbed Vaseline on her teeth to help her smile.  "Quinn, this is disgusting."  

"Well, you'll be happy when you can smile big and bright, even if your mouth is dry from fear."  The ringlet fell around Stacy's heart shaped face.  She looked beautiful.

Daria had curled her hair.  It took two sets of hot rollers and over an hour to roll and set, but the effect was breathtaking.  Daria looked in the mirror and a different person looked back; except how could that be true?  She wasn't different, she had just evolved, or perhaps devolved was the proper term.  No matter how you looked at it, Daria went from hiding her beauty to accentuating it, to stunning results.

The Miss Lawndale Pageant started.  The girls did the usual pageant stuff.  Even on a local level, pageants were professional affairs.  The evening gowns were created by seamstresses, not purchased off the rack.  Many girls had professional voice and dance lessons and performed as well as any Vegas lounge act.  But there were moments too.  One girl, not used to wearing high heels with a bathing suit, tripped and fell off the platform, but to her credit, got right back up, smiled and waved to the audience.  It was only later that she realized that she had a bruise as big as a baseball on her thigh.  Daria was not exempt from disaster.

Daria took a tentative walk on her dyed to match shoes.  The pale blue satin shimmered the same color as her evening gown.  She took a turn around the dressing area and began to wobble.  The heel was loose and stuck in a floorboard.  "Damn!  Quinn, my shoe's stuck, and broken!"

Quinn came to the rescue with the emergency reserve pair. "Aren't you glad that I made you get this other pair?  You never know what's going to happen with shoes."  

Daria went to put them on, but at the last minute changed her mind. "Get me my boots."

"Your boots? Oh, Daria, no."  Quinn moaned.  They had come so far.

"Look Quinn, this gown is long enough to cover my feet, so no one will see them. I don't want to tempt disaster and I'll be comfortable."  Daria laced up her work boots. 

It made sense up to a point.  One of the things that Daria had learned was how to walk on a runway.  Her dress was a lovely gown, with a flare at the bottom.  The seamstress had weighted it, to give it motion when she moved.  Walking straight down the runway, there was no problem, but when she pivoted, the dress swirled and exposed her boots.   Daria hadn't noticed, but Quinn saw from backstage, and was horrified, but an odd thing happened.  The crowd loved it.  At first they erupted in laughter, then they applauded.  Daria was thrown off guard for a moment, but at the last minute, just as she was to exit the stage, she kicked up her leg to give them one last show of footwear.  The crowd ate it up.  

It only surprised Daria that she made it to the final five contestants.  She and Stacy held hands as they announced the winners.  Miraculously, she and Stacy were the last two contestants on the stage.  Stacy was announced as the first runner up, and Daria had won Miss Lawndale.  More importantly she had won ten thousand dollars in scholarship money.   She also had a chance to win bigger prizes in the state pageant.  

The state pageant was similar to the local pageant, although the girls were, like Daria, much more an overall package.

"Jane, you wouldn't believe it.  Most of these girls have been accepted to Ivy League schools, they are also beautiful and talented.  One girl sings opera.  It's amazing.  Who knew there were so many exceptional people out there?"

Jane was working on one of her paintings; it was primarily green in color, with just a few black areas.  "That's what happens when you mix with the hoi polloi, sometimes you find that everyone has something to offer.  So what do you think your chances are?"

"Well, I'm not overly concerned with winning this one.  The prizes are good, but the obligations are overwhelming.  There's $25,000.00 in scholarship money, which is great, there's also a car, but you need it to drive all over the state opening supermarkets and day care centers."

"You could win a car?"  Jane hesitated over her canvass.  "What kind of car?"

Daria shrugged.  "Why?  It's not like I'm going to win it."

"Daria, I hate to tell you, you've got as good a chance as any other girl.  Besides, if it's nice you can drive me around in it. It would beat Trent's hooptie."

"Look Jane, there's a five thousand dollar scholarship available to the person with the highest scores on their entrance exam and essay. I think I could win that.  I'll have $15,000.00 which, added to the Mommy and Daddy scholarship fund, will float me through two years of Brown.  I'm happy.  Besides, if I win the state competition, then I have to defer college for a year, 'to fulfill my duties as Miss American Teen Delaware.'

"Daria, we don't live in Delaware."  Jane observed, splotching more paint on the canvass.

"Well, I know, but you get the idea. Besides, the duties…" Daria shuddered.

"Hey, the car could take the pain out of it.  Do you get to keep it after your 'reign'?"  Jane cracked herself up.

"I guess so."  Daria shrugged, she didn't enjoy driving that much.

"Well, pull out the stops girl! Besides, you'll get a trip to Las Vegas for the big pageant, and you'll get to be on television."  Jane stopped to contemplate Daria on national television.

"Right Jane, that's what's keeping me going here.  I'm dying to be on television."  

"Look Daria, you should be in this for the long haul.  Why stop now?  Why not go for the whole enchilada?  You'll have all the money you need for school and you'll get to travel all over the country.  Look at how Latrice Williams made it pay for her."  Jane emphasized her point with her brush, dropping paint on her drop cloth.

"Watch it!" Daria cringed, as a droplet landed only inches away from her. "Okay, I'll focus on winning big.  Besides, having my own car would be convenient."

No one really expected Daria to win the state pageant, but she did.  As one of her first official acts, she picked up Jane and they did a victory lap around Lawndale, it only took forty-five minutes.  Almost immediately, Daria began preparing for the national pageant.  They didn't change much.  Daria was used to her routines, and to disrupt her might cause problems.  Her talent, which was charming, would probably not overwhelm the judges compared to the singers, dancers and piano prodigies that one encountered at the national pageant. 

The national pageant was held in May.  Already Daria had been forced to defer her entry into college, since she had scores of duties to perform all over the state.  It wasn't that bad though.  She enjoyed driving to the various events, and she was surprised at how much people enjoyed meeting her, simply because she wore a crown.  

There was rarely a week that Daria didn't visit a school or a hospital.  At one of these stops she noticed that there was one little girl who hung back, reading.  After she signed autographs and chatted with the other kids, Daria went over to her.

"So, what are you reading?"  She asked.

The little girl looked up at her.  She had a knit cap on, to cover her bald head.  "Animal Farm."

"Oh, I loved that story when I was your age."  Daria said, trying to make conversation.

"Really?  What other books did you like?"  The little girl asked.

"Oh, all kinds of stuff, 'Dancing Shoes,' 'Little Women,' 'Baby Island.'  Neat books like that."  Daria said. "By the way, what's your name?"

"Shannon."  She politely extended her hand; Daria shook it gravely. "What's 'Baby Island' about? I've never heard of it."

"Oh, it's really great.  It's about two sisters who are on a sinking cruise ship.  They are put in a lifeboat with four babies and they end up on a deserted island.  They have to take care of the babies and figure out how to fend for themselves until they can be rescued."  Daria described the book, remembering how much she enjoyed it when she was younger.

"It sounds really neat.  It's hard to find books where girls can take care of themselves."  Shannon said wistfully.

"I'll tell you what, I've got my copy at home.  I'll loan it to you if you like."  Daria offered.  

"That would be great!  It sucks to be stuck here all day long with nothing to do."  Shannon seemed happier talking to Daria. 

"I'll bet.  If you could be out there what would you want to do?  Disney World?"

Shannon laughed. "No.  I know that everyone thinks that sick kids want to go to Disney World, but I don't.  I just want my life back.  I want to go to school, and soccer practice…" Shannon leaned into Daria, as though to tell her a deep, dark secret.  "I even want to go to church."

Daria laughed. "Well, I'll tell you what, I kind of know what you mean.  It's not the same as being sick, but being a pageant winner does take you away from your normal life.  Sometimes I want to just sit around and watch TV, but I've got places to go and people to see."

"Well, I'm glad you came to see me.  It's the most interesting thing to happen to me in a long time."  Shannon hugged Daria. 

"Shannon, I think I can honestly say the same thing about meeting you."  Daria hugged her back.  "I'll be sure to get that book, and some others over to you.  Maybe when you're all better, and back in school and being a normal kid again, we can go to Disney World together, just to shake things up a bit."

Shannon smiled.  "Yeah, but only after I'm a normal kid again."

"Deal."  Daria stuck out her hand, and Shannon shook it as part of their bargain. 

**Chapter 10**

**There she is…**

Daria enjoyed Las Vegas.  At first she didn't think she'd like it, but once there, she began to see it's charm.  Egyptian pyramids, the Eiffel Tower, the entire city of New York, it was all here.  All of the state contestants seemed to be in a strange state between terror and anticipation.  Daria thought that she was the only reluctant contestant, but in fact all of the girls, except for Miss Texas, seemed to be in the same boat.  Miss American Teen might have started out as a beauty contest, but they were consciously trying to change their image.  Daria met young women with big ambitions, most of which did not include being Miss American Teen.  

Daria was talking with the contestant from Montana.  "So Angela, you didn't really expect to be here either?"

"Hell no.  I entered to get some scholarship money and the next thing I know, I'm hip deep in hair spray and mascara."

"I know what you mean.  I never used to wear make up.  I just read my books, wrote my stories and moaned and complained to my friends.  Now I've got all sorts of stuff on my mind, and none of it seems very important in the grand scheme of things."  Daria admitted.

"I miss my horse." Angela said apropos of nothing.

"I miss cheese fries."  Daria said.

"What are we doing here?"  Angela asked rhetorically.

"I think we're glorifying the American girl."  Daria said sarcastically.

"Yeah, us and Flo Zigfeld."  Angela replied.

Daria was thrilled that she didn't have to explain the joke.  They decided to go to the coffee shop and get cheese fries together. 

On pageant night Daria was remarkably calm.  She actually hoped that she wouldn't win.  As it was, her state duties were taxing, she couldn't imagine a national obligation.  She walked though the production number, the introductions, the swimsuit competition, evening gown and work boot modeling and talent.  As they announced the five finalists, Daria began to wish that she would be named one of them.  It sank in, here, on stage, what it meant to her to win. She had worked damn hard, and she wanted the crown as much as any of the other young women.  Suddenly, she felt hands on her, pushing her gently forward.

"Honey, go on.  You've made it!"  Miss Oregon said, helping her down the stairs.  "You're a finalist."

Daria walked over to stand with the other four contestants.  There were only a few more minutes and the winner would be announced.  They changed their gowns and prepared for their questions.  This was the determining factor.  Everything else mattered, but the question was the most important.

The MC, a well-known Las Vegas celebrity, asked her the question.  "Daria, you are known for wearing your boots with your formal gowns.  Why do you do this?"

Daria laughed.  Of all the things they could have asked her, this was the silliest. "Well Wayne, to be honest it was an accident.  In my local pageant I broke one of my high heels, and I thought about it and I realized that I'm not comfortable in heels.  At the end of the day, you have to be comfortable with who you are.  I'm the kind of woman that wears work boots with a ball gown.  So that's what I've done. I've always worn my boots, and I guess I'll always wear them."  The crowd applauded and the judges nodded.  

There were a few tense moments, and then the runners up were announced.  One by one, women left the stage and finally it was Daria and Miss Texas.  Daria considered herself lucky, she got more scholarship money, although she was disappointed that she didn't win the crown.  Except that Miss Texas was the first runner up and Daria was Miss American Teen.  

The next year was a blur.  The excitement of winning the crown, the press, the very few hours of sleep before being whisked away early in the morning to begin her duties.

In her year as Miss American Teen, Daria visited and worked on Habitat for Humanity worksites. She participated in events all over the country, visiting kids in the hospital, talking about housing on local morning television shows, participating in USO shows overseas and even being a guest on The Late Show with David Letterman.   She ended every day exhausted, but fulfilled.  Even in this one goofy way, she was doing something meaningful.  Although she was getting some ideas about what she wanted to do once the year had ended.

**Chapter 11**

**What are you doing for the rest of your life?**

Daria found herself back in her room in Lawndale.  Except that it wasn't really her room anymore.  During her absence, Helen had redecorated.  Daria stared up at the newly papered walls and thought about school.  School was starting in less than a month, and Daria could not see herself as a member of the freshman class.  It wasn't just because she had been so busy during the past year.  She had been resting since May.  Doing work with the local Habitat office and thinking about her future.

"Daria.  Are you up?"  It was Helen. 

"Yes Mom, come on in."  Helen came into the room.  "I brought you some coffee."

"Thanks."  Daria sat up and sipped.

"So I thought we might go out today and get you some things for school."  Helen had even compiled a list.  "Quinn needs some things too, I thought we'd make a day of it."  

Daria thought about it. "I'll go shopping with you guys, but I don't think I'll need anything."

"What do you mean?"  Helen was worried about Daria; she had been so distant since she came home.

"Mom, I don't think I'm going to Brown after all.  I've been doing some thinking and I don't think school is for me anymore."  

Helen was shocked.  The whole reason Daria started with Miss American Teen was for scholarship money.  Now that she had enough to foot the entire bill, she didn't want to go?  "I don't understand."

"I don't think anyone could understand.  I've been doing something only a handful of people have done; it's changed me.  What I wanted two years ago is foreign to me now.  There's so much for me to do here in Lawndale that doing some mental exercises at Brown seems like a waste."

"Well, what do you want to do?"  Helen couldn't have imagined what came next.

"I want to build affordable housing.  I want to be a contractor."  Daria set down the coffee and helped support Helen.

"What about writing?"  Helen didn't know what to make of Daria's decision.

"Ms. Williams has been very helpful, she's put me in touch with her publisher, and they're going to publish my Miss Teen America diary as a book."  

"Why didn't you tell us?"  

"I wanted to make sure it was firm before I said anything.  Mom, everyone has been so supportive, and I love you guys for it, but I just feel that I've got something to accomplish.  If for whatever reason I want to go to school, it will always be there, but for now, I want to do this."  

"What about the scholarship money?"

"Well, I'll need some of it for prep classes, but I've arranged to re-donate it to the program."  
  


"Daria, that's over one hundred thousand dollars that you're giving up.  Are you sure that's what you want to do?"  Helen was staggered by what Daria appeared to be sacrificing. 

"I've never been more sure in my life."  Daria had received a respectable advance from her publisher, she wasn't really that motivated by money anyway.  

"Well, you've made some choices that I never would have made, but you've managed to make it work for you, and that's the most important thing."  Helen hugged her daughter.  "Whatever you need from us, we'll be happy to give."  

**Chapter 12**

**All's well that ends well.**

Daria looked into the camera.  She picked up the board and the hammer, remembering to keep a clear view for the camera.  "So what you want to do is put the ledger board here."  She tapped some nails into the board.  "Now you're ready to mount the cabinet."  

"Cut!  Okay great.  Guys, why don't you get it semi-attached."  Lisa directed the crew. "Daria, that was good.  For the next shot can you use the drill with your left hand so we can see the screws sinking?" 

"No problem, I'm ambidextrous with power tools."  She called her office as the crew did the ninety percent of the work that made her ten percent look good.  "Hey Trent.  How's everything going there?  Did we get the trusses for lot 26?  Okay, great.  Go ahead and schedule the crews for tomorrow then.  How is everything going on the Meadow Lakes project?  Fine.  Thanks, I'll be in first thing tomorrow, we're nearly done here."  

Daria sat down and waited for the work to be done so she could do the next scene.  She had been doing, "Around the House" for five years now.  It was one of the more popular shows on TLC.  Daria had managed to build a bit of an empire for herself.  She developed mid-priced and affordable housing in the outskirts of Lawndale.  She was thinking of expanding, but she liked the control that she maintained in her geographic area.  The TV show didn't really take much time and it gave her national exposure.  She had been able to license some of her designs and techniques to other builders, so there were more houses being built across the nation for people of modest means.  

Daria looked down at her boots.  Over the years she'd replaced them a few times, but to her, they were the symbol of how she had been able to succeed on her terms.  There really was no other way to qualify success, if you couldn't do it your way; it wasn't really your success.  She smiled and got ready to take the drill from the stage manager.  "Okay, let's get this done!"

Author's Note:  I'd like to thank CINCGREEN, for his excellent advice on this story.  More dialog does make a more interesting story.  


End file.
